


Erotica

by audrey_cooper



Series: Calliope [3]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, Surveillance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrey_cooper/pseuds/audrey_cooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, playing rhythm is harder than playing solo. You do need to read Calliope and Desideration first -- this is a sequel.</p>
<p>Spoilers: Nope.</p>
<p>Originally posted December, 1998.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Erotica

"Give me the scarf, Mulder."

His eyes glint at me.

Dark.

Dangerous.

He draws it out from its hiding place, shaking his head. "Don't tell me what to do. I'm having fun."

He looks like a picture I once saw of a guitar player, totally focused on the object cradled in his hands: his face a study in insouciance, slowing transmuting to passion, head falling back, lips parting, eyes closing.

The instrument of Mulder's passion is not a guitar -- and it's not me. It's the scarf. In his hands, it wrings a response from his body the way only a well-made, well-practiced piece can.

Touching the hollows of his temples. Running over the serration of his teeth. He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.

The scarf journeys across the planes of his collarbone. Along the length of his thigh, following the pulse of his femoral artery.

Places I long to touch.

Silk on black leather and torn jeans.

Shiver.

His nipples stand out in little points of excitement as he brushes the scarf over them. One hand falls to his fly and slowly plucks buttons through their holes, the motion slow and deliberate. Then both hands shove his jeans down, underwear carried with them, kicking them off and away. His freed erection bobs up against his stomach.

Mulder's head tilts down and to the side and his mouth opens, teeth bared in a primordial snarl, heavy lids raising to half mast as the scarf closes over his rigid flesh.

He makes no sound but heavy breathing. I bite my lower lip, stifling a moan. I determine to be every bit as quiet. It won't be easy. Sex, for me, although usually solitary, is a vocal event, so my ears ring with his silence, and gradually, my mind provides sound from his action.

_Come here. See what I've got for you -- I can make you feel so good. Sooo good._

All the sweet spots on my body vibrate, like the high sharp notes on a slide guitar, skillfully played -- blurred and clear, immediate and lingering, like the sound of a human voice sighing softly then gasping.

Pleading.

I reach and take the scarf from him, pulling it slowly through his fingers, watching him shudder as it strokes the sensitive underside of his cock.

His fingers tighten around his cock as I place the scarf over my mouth, poking my tongue out at him under it, leaving a damp spot. I take the scarf away from my lips and bend down, breathing over his erection, watching it twitch in the direction of my mouth.

His hips jerk up, and he shifts his hand around his cock, raising it toward me. His other hand comes up to the nape of my neck, urging my mouth down until it brushes the head of his cock.

I lick delicately at the pulse that jumps just under the head, so close beneath the surface.

Mulder makes a muffled groan and I press my thighs together at the sound.

_Open up, Scully. Please._

I oblige him, opening my mouth wide and sliding up and down the length of him.

I'll show you fun, Mulder.

I stroke his balls with the scarf. This time he growls, and pulls my head and hands away, pushing me up. I back off, admiring the sweat on his chest, his upper lip.

The scarf trails between my breasts and down my stomach as I unbutton my blouse, making the muscles there jump and tremble.

Mulder's eyes widen, and I half turn away from him to keep silent, tossing the blouse to the floor, then, keeping my back to him, draw the scarf up my inner forearm. Over the inside of my elbow.

He fingers the clasp of my bra open. My breasts feel full and hard, the nipples almost painful with the need to be touched. I pull the bra off, unable to stand the feel of it rasping on them. I caress one nipple with the scarf, picturing his mouth on it, drawing, sucking.

He puts his left hand on mine, taking the scarf from me. He tugs at my nipple with it, the silk rubbing relentlessly. His right hand unzips my skirt, then pushes it down, taking my pantyhose with it, and I raise my hips so that he can slide them off.

Tracing the tattoo at the small of my back with his fingers as he drops my clothes next to his on the floor, Mulder leans forward until his teeth close on my lower back, over the tattoo. He plays along the back of my knee, then slides his fingers up the inside of my thigh.

He moves behind me, drawing me back until I'm lying within his spread legs. His erection rubs against the tattoo, sliding against it, and he drops the scarf, twisting at my nipple, pulling.

Now I _am_ the instrument of Mulder's passion, and that realization, as much as the sensation twanging down my body from my nipple, clamps my thighs down on his fingers.

He shifts his hands and grasps my thighs. I resist him at first, just to see what he'll do. His grip tightens to hard enough to leave bruises, pulling my legs apart until he has drawn one over each of his.

Both of his hands come to rest on the soaked cotton between my legs.

My vow to keep silent flies out the window. I can't hold back any longer. "Oh!"

I sound surprised.

He chuckles rustily behind me and starts to move his hands. I watch the muscles in his forearms shift, and the expertise of his fingers, now light and rapid, now heavy and demanding, is undeniable.

His fingers strum over my flesh, caressing first one spot, then another, seeking that place that will make me arch under his hands.

The touches are like a single note, played again and again.

Variations on a theme.

Touch.

Stroking over my perineum.

Almost.

"Yeah," I breathe.

Pause.

Another.

Outlining the crease between my lips.

Not quite, but good.

Very good.

"Oh, _yeah_."

A longer pause this time.

His fingers sliding under the cotton.

Please.

Nudging through my damp curls, spreading my lips wide.

I grit my teeth, breathing through my nose. "God."

Very long pause.

Small mewling noises float from my lips.

Then the note, the touch again.

Pressing hard against my clit.

There. Oh, _there!_

"Mul-der!"

He starts to strip my panties down and I understand that I have to close my legs to get them off. But I can't. I want him to keep touching me. I slide up further along his body until his cock is nestled in the crack of my ass, and rub against it.

His breath comes out in a heavy grunt. "Scully, let me..."

I moan and he bites at my neck.

"Touch me."

"I am," he says, pushing my legs together by brute force and yanking off my panties. I kick at them as they tangle around my ankles, flailing past the point of balance.

"Mulder!"

We tumble from the couch to the floor, knocking over the coffee table. I crack an elbow against it, ringingly. His weight comes down hard on my back, pressing me into the pile of our clothes, my face against the scarf.

His cock is probing for entrance between my legs.

I gasp for air and he grabs my ass, pulling me up, trying to get the right angle.

I slither away from him. Mulder catches me by one ankle, hauling me back.

He plunges two fingers inside me.

"Oh, God, Mulder!"

He fondles me deeply and sensuously, his fingers sliding in and out, reaching around with his other hand to caress my clitoris. He plucks at it delicately.

I'm going to come.

I push down and back against his hands. My thighs are trembling and I know he can feel my inner muscles starting to tighten.

"Do you like that? Does it feel good, Scully?"

Bastard.

The crystalline edge of sanity is chipping away as our surroundings melt and blur like a psychedelic party, all fuchsia and orange and black; strobe flashes.

He's too controlled. I want him just as crazy as I am. I want to hear him.

"Yes!" I spit.

Not yet! His hands speed up, slipping deeper, pressing harder on my clit and I can't stop it, I'm going to come, and my hands reach up to clench in his hair.

"Mull-derrr!" The tension builds and builds, but my orgasm is fast, there and gone, leaving me disillusioned and not quite angry.

" _Yessss!_ " he exults. I almost expect him to pump his fist in the air.

He doesn't let up. He seems so detached, mechanically pushing me toward climax, seeing how well he can do, how many times he can make me come. Hit those spots, and Scully comes -- I could have done just as well, if not better, by myself, if this is all there's going to be. This feels too much like what I do alone: hurry up and finish, then feel guilty about it. Oh, God, I didn't want it to be this way, I didn't think it would be like this. Well, at least I can try to make it good for him. It's hard to stop what he's doing; it _does_ feel good, and I could easily come again, but my self respect demands it.

I reach back to capture his cock with my hands. The position is awkward, but then his hands fall away from me as I get a better handle on the situation, gripping him firmly. He won't let me roll over, so I moan my frustration and, pressing my legs together, I start stroking his cock as hard and fast as I can.

"Scul-lee," he pants.

That's better. I loosen my grip. "What do you want, Mulder?"

He twists my head with a hand clenched around my jaw and puts his mouth on mine, fiercely, his tongue demanding entrance.

_Much_ better. I kiss him back, and he moans into my mouth.

Tearing away, he knees apart my legs and slaps a hand down on my back. I lunge away, but he drags me back again.

His mouth, next to my ear: "Scully -- God, I want to fuck you so bad. Let me in."

One hand still gripping the back of my neck, he reaches down with the other and parts my slick folds with his fingers. Then his cock slams into me and I moan a low gurgling moan.

Tenderness, lurking in the slight tremor of his hands, will come later.

For now, I am held in the grip of his dark madness; a frenzy of thrashing limbs descending into something close to maniacal ecstasy.

Burning.

" _Yesss,_ Scully!"

He pulls me back by the hair.

Mulder thrusts into me hard and deep, one hand in my hair and the other on my breast.

"Christ -- I want to see you!" He pulls out of me and flips me over, plunging back into me.

"Scul-lee!" His face is strained, mouth open and panting, eyes squinched down to slits.

He's close. I spread my legs wider and rock my hips against his, wanting to see him come, to watch his face while he does; to know that, for now, at least, that we're together in this. That's all I wanted: a little harmony. Together -- no more solos.

His fast pumping rubs his cock insistently against my clit. I didn't expect -- oh, God, I think I'm going to come again. I've never come with a man inside me. The sensation of his cock sliding against my clit and hitting my cervix is incredible.

"Oh! I... Mulder, oh, _yeah!_ Justlikethat, fuck me, I'mgonna..."

"That's it, Scully, come for me," he pants in my ear. "Come on, baby." He pulls up slightly so he can see my face, and that changes the angle just enough. A full, soul-deep wrenching orgasm sweeps through me -- all sensation in my body coalesces around his cock, driving deeply and powerfully into me.

No bright light soaring here: it's black -- no other color save pink, it's like red, but not quite -- blossoming as I come.

"OoohGod! _Mullll-dderrr!_ "

Mulder's eyes flare and he keeps going, shuddering heavily as I convulse around him, his thrusts shorter and faster now; his lips pulling back to bare his teeth at me. A strangled gurgling comes from him and he grasps my hips, tilting them even more, as he explodes, gasping, "Sscullleeee!"

He drops his mouth down to mine, nuzzling my lips gently, kissing me with all the slow, rich, lingering tenderness that I could hope for.

Maybe it's not the instrument, after all. Maybe it's the player.

_____  
End

**Author's Note:**

> Follows Calliope and Desideration.
> 
> This is an attempt to set the cadence of rock guitar to words. I know, it doesn't quite make sense, but that's what I was trying. I didn't expect it to get so violent, but I never argue with my muse or my characters -- I just let them do whatever they want.
> 
> Influences, for those interested, include "Let It Slide" -- that riff practically *screams* sex, and its full incarnation "Cheesecake", "Rag Doll", "What Kind Of Love Are You On?", and, most especially, "Walk This Way", all by Aerosmith.
> 
> "Don't tell me what to do. I'm having fun." is a quote from one of the sexiest guitar players I've ever laid eyes on: Joe Perry -- the King of Cool. Not only can the man play; he looks damn fine doing it. Playing guitar, I mean. 
> 
> Bonus points for finding the Aerosmith lyric snippet!! Hint: It's not from one of the songs I mentioned...
> 
> As always, thanks to DP for kicking ass, taking names, and showing me that I can do better. Special thanks to B, my very own guitar player, for his continuing support and inspiration.
> 
> This is dedicated to a wonderful group of women, without whom I would have stopped writing long ago. You know who you are.
> 
> I would appreciate feedback in any shape or form. So, please, let me know what you think...
> 
> Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully don't belong to me. They are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and 1013 Productions, and have been used without permission. The situations, however, are mine, bless my ever twisted little mind.
> 
> S: "I had you."  
> M: "No, you didn't."  
> S: "Oh, yeah. I had you big time."  
> The X-Files Movie


End file.
